


Lunar Chaos

by KissOfTheGrimm (Lotus_kiss)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Werewolf Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-14 22:02:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3427154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotus_kiss/pseuds/KissOfTheGrimm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Up until today Hermione had never regretted her choices, everything she had experienced made her the woman she was, and she liked that woman very much. When she made the choice to come to Pegasus she was confident, but now she was beginning to rethink accepting her new position among the people of Atlantis. The magic here was stifling and thick, the lunar pull was constantly fluctuating and her gums ached almost every day; but she'd made a commitment and refused to go back on her word.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Cross Tower, Tote Forest, Island of Skye, December 2001_

With a sharp crack Hermione appeared in the dark night, barely missing a large pile of snow just outside the front gate. Adjusting her messenger bag she shivered and stepped through the gate, ignoring the icy feel of fingers on her skin as the wards scanned her. Weaving her way down the path to the front door she sighed, flicking her hand back and forth, tossing snow from the ancient cobblestones. She’d only have to do it again in the morning but anything to keep snow out of her pumps and her stockings dry for a few minutes longer. The heavy oak door opened without a sound and warmth enveloped her as she stepped inside the tower she called home.

It was an old tower outpost, once used for advanced warning of impending raids, by an old Scottish clan long dead and honestly she didn’t care enough to remember their names; this was her home now. Maybe the old Hermione would have cared a bit more but these days, medical student Hermione didn’t care about anything but her next cup of coffee, cat napping behind the nurses station and getting her field reports done on time. She was eight months from graduation and had already decided her actual residencies could wait; there were more important matters to attend to. If Hermione was honest, she didn’t care about being a practicing doctor, even within the specialized genetics field, all she had attended medical school for was the knowledge to help others within the magical world.

Kicking off her shoes she left them by the door, flicking the security bar down over the door as she padded away. Thick plush carpet brushed along her feet as she passed through the living area and toward the stairs. The fire was already roaring in the fireplace, indicating someone had been by, most likely one of the Hogwarts house elves. Hermione had noticed small things like laundry being done, the icebox being stocked and a sandwich sitting out waiting for her months ago. She doubted it was Harry, he had been somewhere in Peru for the last year while Ron still had the emotional range of a teaspoon.

Mrs. Weasley wasn’t exactly happy with Hermione these days because the witch had halted any attempts Molly made at matchmaking and Hermione had effectively fallen off Ginny’s radar when the youngest redhead started as first line chaser for the Holyhead Harpies and attracted the attention of Oliver Wood. Hermione was sure they would announce an engagement or a baby any day so that left only one option; a Hogwarts house elf. Every time Hermione asked Headmistress McGonagall about it however, she played dumb and ignored her inquiries. Eventually Hermione gave in and stopped asking, she needed the help to make it through school and frankly she was glad someone was interested in her wellbeing. Besides, she couldn’t keep buying new panties at the local boutique before her shifts at the hospital.

Sconces on the inner stairwell wall caught fire as she wound her way up the tower stairs, and at one point she even stopped at one of the small windows, captivated by the moonlight bouncing off the snow. The stone was cool under her feet however, encouraging her to move once more. Reaching the small landing above the main living area she smiled tiredly at the wrapped plate of brownies in front of her bedroom door. Whichever house elf kept coming around knew what she liked, that’s for sure. Stepping over the plate, silently promising to come back to it and devour at least half of the sweets, she pushed open her bedroom door and stepped inside. Dropping her bag inside the door she shucked her knee length wool coat, tossing it snowflakes and all into a heap near the end of the bed. She continued to disrobe all the way to the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind. White blouse, black pencil skirt and purple garters covered the floor. Stockings too came off but with a bit more care as they were harder to replace.

After a quick shower Hermione wandered her way back out and pulled yoga pants from her dresser along with a ratty black and burgundy Quidditch jersey that may or may not have belonged to Viktor Krum at some point (she’d admit that fact over her own dead body). Forgoing her bra she brushed out her hair before pinning it up with her wand. Momentarily she felt bad, her wand hadn’t been used for much these past few weeks, with her new grasp on simple wandless magic and her expansive time in the muggle world. Running her fingers lightly over the shaft of wood she felt a tingle, old magic inside responding to her touch eagerly. She still needed and loved her wand, she would always need it and tonight the old girl would get a workout.

Slipping into her house shoes she snatched up the brownies and headed back downstairs. Veering off behind the stairs instead of back to the living room she headed into the kitchen, pulling milk from the icebox, setting it and the brownies on an old tray. Reaching back into the icebox she took stock of her already prepared options, pulling two turkey sandwiches and an apple. With a quiet incantation and a flick of her wand, a thrill went up her spine at the rush of magic and the tray simultaneously began to float off the counter. Leaving the kitchen she headed back toward the living room, the tray following behind like a well-trained dog.

Crookshanks snoozed in her favorite armchair, basking in front of the fire. His ears twitched as she walked by, an eye cracked open and he rolled lazily to his stomach when she paused.

“Are you coming?”

Crookshanks snorted but sniffed, gaze moving to the tray which carried her turkey sandwiches. Turning his gaze back to her he cocked his head and meowed almost questioningly.

“Yes, of course one is yours.”

The answer seemed to satisfy the half kneazle and he stretched swiftly before hopping down from the chair and preceding her down the hall. Hermione smiled ruefully and followed the bob of his tail into her study. The fireplace inside was lit as well and Hermione settled onto the worn couch that was catty corner in front of it. Her desk was adjacent to the couch and faced the fireplace as well, a large bay window behind her leather wingback chair. Hermione and Crookshanks ate in a companionable silence, her gaze drifting to the empty portrait near the window. She hadn’t seen Phineas Nigellus in a few days but then again the man wasn’t really interested in her, he was interested in her research. His portrait resided in her office because Headmistress McGonagall had requested it and Harry didn’t care, he was in Peru. No doubt when she headed into her lab the old headmaster would appear shortly after, he had impeccable timing.

Hermione spent a few more minutes petting Crookshanks, before sending the dishes back across the stone keep and into the basin sink. Pulling an afghan off the back of the couch she piled it around the half kneazle before standing and heading over to her bookshelf. Grabbing her favorite sweater from the hook nearby, she slipped it on and grasped an old textbook on astronomy, pulling the tome from its spot on the shelf. Setting the book down on her desk Hermione came back to the bookshelf just as it finished pulling away from the wall, exposing a set of stairs similar to the others but these inevitably led down, not up.

“I’ll be back Crooks.”

Heading down the stairs sconces lit up as they had before in the other stairwell only this time there were no windows. The air was crisp and cool, and her steps echoed softly the deeper she went. Finally the stairs opened up into a tunnel and Hermione entered her workroom shortly after, the basement cavern bigger than a visitor may have expected. Two fireplaces dotted the far wall, one already lit and the other dark. Cauldrons had been cleaned recently and were sat back in their storage cupboard, shelves dotted the walls filled with books and ingredients. The more sensitive potions ingredients were kept in another cupboard similar to Professor Snape’s. Long stone tables had been scrubbed, mixing wands and other utensils gleamed in the light from the fireplace on each.

A nearby desk sat covered in books and parchment, some of the papers merely scraps and one was actually an admittance form for the hospital Hermione had scribbled on when she had thought of something a few weeks back. Waving her wand a large brass cauldron floated toward the nearest work bench and books gravitated from her desk, leaving Hermione to retrieve ingredients from her stores. Turning away from her other stores Hermione headed to the far wall near the tunnel opening, and winced at the squeak the closet door made. Walking inside she cast a quick Lumos and as her eyes adjusted Hermione found herself facing the bars of a quite fancy cage, but a cage all the same.

Inside was a comfortably decorated full size bed she’d replaced more than once, a bedside table that was bound to be next and a small desk covered in books. A small bathroom took up a corner of the cell, holding an even smaller shower, a sink and a toilet. Shaking her head she turned away and scanned the shelves opposite the cell. Grabbing the last batch of inhibitor labeled twenty-six she headed back to her cauldron. Twenty-six was almost ready, very close. It had to be tweaked and it didn’t have the right length of potency but she was getting closer. The problem was she needed another test subject, another volunteer. Frankly the werewolves had begun to lose faith in her project and were reluctant to hear her out anymore. If the smartest witch of their age couldn’t fix them, they were screwed. Best to move on with life as they had been before.

One wolf hadn’t lost hope yet however, but then again he was too young to know there may have even been hope. Young Edward Remus Lupin was almost four years old, would be come April. Shortly after his birth he had begun showing signs, ticks if you will around the full moon. Shortly after he turned one, he had experienced his first physical change. It wasn’t nearly as severe as his father’s but the feral nature and outright loss of self was there. The change was hard on his small body and everyone agreed he was too young for Wolfsbane, the potion would do him more harm than good at this point. So every full moon he was locked up with pillows and blankets and snacks, toys and books. Every morning he was found in a mess of feathers, paper and broken toy wizards. Dutifully Andromeda repaired her grandson’s toys and replaced them if need be, not caring how much gold she spent on him. Until he was old enough to understand there was no need to burden him, to make him unhappy. It a cure wasn’t found, others would soon do it for them.

Hermione was determined to find that cure but didn’t think she would find it right off the bat so instead she was starting small, creating something to inhibit the effects of the change and maybe even prevent it until the next moon cycle. She was however, running out of volunteers but had in mind someone who might just help her out. Pulling the apple out of her pocket Hermione lit the burner under her cauldron, the one meant for the base of twenty-six before summoning another and setting it inside the cold fireplace, one that wouldn’t be cold for long.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, I don’t know exactly how medical school works but I’m treating it like any other higher degree; there’s a required internship even before a graduate starts residencies. My description of the ATA gene probably sucks but no matter how much research I did I couldn’t find anything on it. I also don’t know enough or have enough time to research DNA strands where the gene was probably actually found. Sorry guys, maybe I’ll fix it in the future.
> 
> I know the first chapter has been posted for a while but I've held off trying to finish Bonds of Temptation. I really want to write more of this fic so will be balancing both as best as I can, plus my one shots. I have a few chapters written for this fic but Will be re-watching SGA to make sure I get timeline events as correct as possible before I deviate.

_Southern General Hospital, Glasgow Scotland, April 2002_

Hermione adjusted her hair in the mirror and straightened her blouse before slipping her white coat back on, grabbing up her files and newest blood samples, exiting the bathroom. Her heels clicked on the floor in an even staccato, announcing her presence and grabbing people’s attention as she traversed the halls, heading down to the labs. She returned greetings with a smile and snuck candy from her pockets and into little hands as she went, winking at them. The last year during her internship and clinicals had done wonders for both her education, resources and reputation. Parents loved the way she treated their children and looked the other way when she slipped them lollipops and other small candies.

Patients loved being treated by her, she didn’t sugarcoat things and was honest with them at all times. It didn’t hurt that the older men thought she was pretty and the older women thought she was ‘ _just a doll’_. She was now four months from graduation and would be graduating in the top ten of her class, though it took all she had to stay at number eight. Medical school was definitely hard, a challenge for sure but she had realized very quickly that her background and love for potions helped her along just a bit more than others. Instead of working harder to do better Hermione had to put effort into doing a little worse, staying under the radar but still doing well for future aspects.

Avoiding the elevator Hermione took the stairs, needing the exercise after the large piece of cake she had with her lunch, not to mention the tacos and clam chowder. She’d been living on fumes for days and her magic was running her metabolism sky high; making her eat like a Thestral. The trek down the stairs was mindless muscle memory and before she knew it she was in one of the labs two floors south where nobody but employees were allowed. As part of her coursework Hermione was allowed access to the labs and the newest equipment. Reaching in her coat pocket she pulled her hospital cards and swiped them in front of the keypad before entering her personal identification code. The red light on the pad turned green and she pushed open the door, listening to the hiss of the hydraulics as it shut seamlessly behind her.

The lab was quiet and the lights were low, it looked like nobody had been in there all day and nobody probably had been. Lab two was less used than lab one, it had more specialized and in depth equipment that was not needed every day or used by most of the staff. Hermione set her stuff down on a lab table and began turning on the lights that edged the room and cutting off the ones in the center that hovered over the lab tables.

Reaching into one of the storage cabinets she pulled out a large black microscope and set it up on the table. Plugging it in she turned it on and let it warm up, removing eye and lense covers. Hermione picked up the blood vials she had brought with her and placed them inside a nearby fridge before removing a couple slides she prepared that morning, two belonging to recent samples from Teddy and the other two belonging to a seven year old boy who had been brought in two days before with a severe chest cold and fluid on his lungs.

Hermione had chosen this boy for a reason, both he and Teddy carried an infection, only his was something a round of antibiotics and extra attention could cure. She knew it wasn’t exactly moral how she was obtaining comparative samples but she didn’t take any more than needed, never wrote down patient identification information and despite having to get an evasive permission form signed she had those on record too. All samples were destroyed after use and none were the wiser, at least she hoped. Pulling up a stool she removed her jacket and settled in. Teddy’s samples were the same as always, normal white cell counts, no abnormal enzymes and a distinct hard shell surrounding his red blood cells. The shell glowed a silver color under the ultra violet film in the microscope. The patients samples were just the opposite, raised white blood cells and elevated enzymes indicative of his infection.

Removing the first slide from the microscope she reached for the second, not even bothering to look at the label. Slipping it into her view she adjusted the intensity of the microscope and zoomed out, scanning the sample quickly and noticing something wrong. Zooming back in Hermione isolated the view and stared deftly at the sample before flicking the ultra violet film into place. There was an odd looking particulate in the blood, almost like a spore. There were only four or five of them and they were a blue color, seeming to almost glow. Blinking she pulled away from the scope and lifted the slide, realizing it was labeled ‘ _X37-C’_. Sliding it back into the microscope Hermione took another look, having never seen anything like this before.

There was a beep and the hydraulics on the door hissed, grabbing Hermione’s attention. She raised her head and looked at the newcomer, recognizing him from the hospital cafeteria, having seen him around once or twice with a few military looking suits. They wore no patches but Hermione recognized the walk, the look and the secret conversations.

He headed straight to the refrigerators and began opening doors, pulling out drawers and glancing over sample labels. Hermione pulled the slide from her microscope and held it up.

“Dr. Beckett?”

The doctor started and turned in her direction, opening his mouth to say something but he stopped. Hermione completely turned around on her stool and brandished the slide.

“Is this yours?”

Carson closed the refrigerator he had been looking through and walked over. Taking the slide he looked at the label and nodded.

“Where did you find it?”

Hermione gestured to the tray that held her current samples.

“I found it placed with mine, not sure how it got there.”

Carson reached in his pocket and pulled out a slide, holding it out to her.

“Then this must be yours.”

Hermione took the slide and flipped it over, reading off her own spider-like distinct handwriting. Placing it on the microscope she took a quick look to be sure, easily identifying it in the same stages as its match.  Looking away from the slide she nodded.

“Yes, that’s mine. I set them up this morning, placed them in the fridge. Maybe they got knocked around or knocked over and someone put them back wrong.”

 Carson didn’t look convinced but smiled. He held out his hand and when Hermione gripped it he squeezed slightly.

“Dr. Carson Beckett.”

Hermione squeezed back and shook his hand lightly.

“Hermione Granger, almost a doctor but not quite yet.”

Carson laughed.

“You’ll get there. Thank you for not trashing my slide.”

He turned away and waved a goodbye, headed for the door. Before she could stop herself Hermione called out to him.

“There’s something wrong with your sample.”

Carson stopped and turned back to her.

“Excuse me?”

Hermione bit her lip and shrugged, fidgeting on her stool.

“Don’t know if you’ve looked at it yet but there’s something odd in the blood.”

Carson walked back toward her still holding the slide in his hand. Hermione held out her hand.

“May I?”

Carson nodded and Hermione took the slide, putting it under the microscope. Adjusting back to where she was before, Hermione leaned back and gestured to the microscope.

“There were a few anomalies, four or five specks that looked similar to spores and if I didn’t know any better I would think they had a glow under the ultra violet spectrum.”

Carson frowned.

“Ultra violet?”

Hermione nodded. She couldn’t tell him she looked at a werewolf virus with it.

“I use it in my research, checking for anomalies. I use various light layers, to see what shows up. Pet project really.”

Carson didn’t look like he believed her but when she moved out of the way he stepped up to the microscope. Leaning in, he groped around looking for the filter switch, unfamiliar with this specific microscope; he preferred another model himself. Carson jerked when small cool fingers brushed his and then his vision brightened as the filter slid into place. Carson grinned and he heard a smothered laugh. Focusing his attention back onto the sample he reached for the zoom, adjusting it once more. Sure enough he spotted what Hermione had mentioned. Carson straightened, running a hand through his dark hair and avoiding Hermione’s face. He couldn’t believe this, he’d been looking for this for months, for anything that indicated the gene required to use ancient technology but hadn’t been able to find anything. That was until ‘not quite doctor Granger’ stumbled upon his slide, filled literally with his own blood sample.

Hermione fidgeted and grabbed his attention.

“You see what I mean?”

Carson nodded.

“I think the solution for preservation is contaminated.”

Hermione couldn’t help the arch of her eyebrow.

“I’ve seen contamination but never like this and this is the only sample I’ve seen react like this under the filter.”

Carson shrugged before pulling the sample from the microscope.

“I’ll look into it, I appreciate you bringing this to my attention.”

Hermione didn’t bother trying to look convinced but she shrugged. This wasn’t her business, not her project. Offering her hand they shook once more and as she settled back into position. Carson gave her a polite goodbye and left the same way he came.

****************HP/SGA***************

When the door closed behind him Carson sagged against the wall. His knees were weak and it suddenly felt like he could breathe again. Looking at the slide in his grip he had to loosen his fingers before he crushed it. Taking a deep breath he reached into his lab coat and pulled his cell phone out. Hitting speed dial he lifted the phone to his ear and began toward the stairs. When the line answered his voice was calm once more.

“You’re not going to believe this.”


	3. Chapter 3

***************HP/SGA******************

_Cross Tower, Tote Forest, Island of Skye, March 2003_

Reaching up to the shelf Hermione grabbed a vial labeled thirty-nine and pulled it down, shook it and turned toward the gilded cage. Behind the bars stood a middle age man, about six foot with sandy blonde hair and an easy smile. He was dressed in a sleeveless shirt and sweatpants, barefoot and slightly unassuming. His eyes were another story, dark and wide. His skin had a fine sheen of sweat and his muscles twitched now and again.

“Are you sure about this Nathan?”

The man nodded and smiled, slightly pointed white teeth glinting in the light.

“Of course I’m ready, I’m always ready. Just say go.”

Hermione laughed and passed the vial through the bars. Nathan popped the top on the vial and downed it in one go. He grimaced and stuck his tongue out.

“Still tastes like shit.”

Hermione laughed again and held up her hands, what did he want from her, the thing to taste like chocolate? No medicine ever tasted great and she was pretty sure that was why it worked.

“Moonrise in about twenty minutes. Want anything else before I leave you?”

Nathan shook his bed and headed toward the shoebox sized bathroom.

“Gonna take a piss and do some reading, we’ll see how thirty-nine works.”

Nathan closed the bathroom door, ending the short conversation. Hermione just shook her head and left the makeshift closet space. Heading back to the work table she began cleaning things up from her research earlier that day. Number thirty-nine showed real promise, had some of the effects she was already looking for and that was why it had made it to the second phase of testing. Hermione was grateful for Nathan’s help, he was one of few who had any faith left in her but considering how long she had been working at this problem she couldn’t blame them. She bit her lip tightly, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that something bad was going to happen.

It had been one thing after another that day, from spilling her coffee to tripping over Crookshanks , stubbing her toes on the stairs and nearly falling down them on the way to her lab. Things weren’t happening in three’s, they were happening by the dozens. Shaking her head Hermione quickly wiped down the work table and banished the leftover contents of her cauldrons before sending them back to the closet. Looking at her watch she decided to leave the organization of her desk for later, the moon was going to be up in approximately four minutes and she didn’t want to be in the lab. Though Nathan was locked up and in another room (if you could call it that) his senses would still be heightened if he did indeed change. Feeling her presence mere feet away would do nothing but rile him up.

Exiting the lab Hermione didn’t bother closing the bookcase behind her and she headed for the kitchen, stomach rumbling after not being fed all day.  Grabbing a pot of stew she prepared the night before she set it on the old fashioned wood stove, covering and adding a little magic to help it boil faster. With that settled she reached for bowls and set them on a tray, hoping Nathan would be able to share dinner with her. Spelling the pot so it couldn’t boil over Hermione went back to the living room, curling up on the couch under a blanket. The fireplace was burning bright and had been for several hours because of the snow falling outside.

Snaking a hand out from under the blanket Hermione caressed a letter on the low coffee table. The parchment was thick with as many details as Harry could fit on the pages from his latest trip. He was excited and had finally gotten an offer to a quidditch team he liked and wanted to join. Two years ago he’d been offered a position at the end of his trip in Peru for their national team but hadn’t really thought about a professional career. At the time he was still an Auror and had assignments waiting on his desk. In 2002 however he was approached by a representative with Puddlemere United after a regular summer pickup game on the Hogwarts quidditch pitch. The man said he knew Harry had left the Auror division and wondered if he was looking for something new, if he wanted to get serious about his talent on a broom.

Three days ago he was wooed by the Irish National Quidditch team (and probably a bit by the cute blonde keeper) and signed a five year contract to be their first string Seeker. The pay wasn’t the biggest offer he’d had but he liked Ireland’s ethics and the team warmed to him from the start. Victor Krum had offered him a Beater position with the Bulgarian team but Harry’s first love was Seeker and Krum wasn’t retiring until they made him. Plus, this way he’d get to play against the other man in the same position. Harry was starting camp in the summer and for now was staying with Krum, tearing up the town as it were. He promised to come by before camp began, as much as he could.

Hermione had sent a reply demanding they both visit, to behave themselves as best they could and more details about the cute blonde keeper. Hermione was waiting for the reply and bet the first line would be a denial of his interest in the blonde but he would go on to talk about her. Yawning Hermione pulled her arm back under the blanket and blinked slowly, maybe she’d take a short nap. She’d been up since just before dawn and had been brewing since shortly after that.

She’d nap, just for a while.

************HP/SGA*************

Hermione jolted up on the couch, her blanket and wand falling to the floor seconds after a loud crash echoed downstairs. The fire had long died down and it was still dark outside, the moon barely visible. Pushing up off the couch she bent down and grabbed her wand before padding toward her office. Everything was quiet, not a sound from downstairs. Poking her head around the office doorframe she took a quick look before proceeding to the open bookcase. Quietly she went down the spiraling stairs toward her lab and paused in the doorway, not noticing anything out of the ordinary.

Heading to the anteroom containing the cage Hermione stopped short when she saw the cage door was busted off the hinges, bent in a heap on the floor and the room empty. Whipping around she gripped her wand tighter, and scanned the room. Her magic was prickling, something was definitely wrong. If Nathan had hands he wouldn’t have busted down the door, which only meant he had changed. The lack of noise earlier in the night however must mean that thirty-nine worked, at least for a while. That was all well and good but that also meant Hermione was in some serious trouble unless she was able to restrain Nathan. One of the keys to any of the success’s Hermione had made was the fact you couldn’t mix the inhibitor with Wolfsbane, they essentially made each other useless and turned the person into a ravening monster; this had been found out early on with number twelve.

Turning around Hermione scanned the room once more, unsure where he could have gone. When her eyes landed on the storage closet where her main ingredients and supplies were kept she could swear the door moved, just an inch. Creeping forward with her wand at the ready Hermione crossed the room, a stunner on the tip of her tongue. Bracing herself she gripped the edge of the door and took a deep breath before counting to three. On two she jumped the broom as it were and ripped the door open, her body suddenly tensing and going lax when she discovered nothing inside. Straightening she sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She had no idea how Nathan could have gotten past her but she needed to search upstairs.

A noise behind her had Hermione turning back around before a searing pain cut across her back and she was shoved to the floor. A scream erupted from her mouth at the same time there was a savage snarl above her and bright red blood sprayed the wall. Hermione instantly lost a grip on her wand as claws dug into her upper back and teeth gripped her shoulder. She screamed again in pain and struggled, fear clouding her senses. Another snarl sounded behind her, this one louder than before and suddenly she was airborne. Teeth were still locked in her shoulder as she was flung upward, and effectively shaken like a rag doll.

Hermione could feel the muscles tearing in her shoulder, blood flowing down her back and chest; this time razor sharp claws were cutting into her right thigh. Her vision had tunneled and the edges were black, inching close; she could barely hear anything over the whine in her ears. A dull shout behind her barely caught her attention before Nathan swung her violently once more and this time released her shoulder. Hermione’s body hit the wall near the storage closet hard, her jaw locked up and she bit her tongue.

Her body was limp and she couldn’t move, she had no strength. There was another shout and Hermione vaguely recognized it as Phineas Nigellus. There was another voice as well, a loud curse, a bright red light and Nathan howling in pain. Slowly Hermione blinked and turned her head, trying to focus on the occupants in her lab. Dark robes swished in her eye sight and there was another piercing howl from Nathan. She groaned and tried to lift her arm, fingers trailing the floor for her wand. Her lips were dry and her head light; she wasn’t surprised when her fingers dragged through a puddle of her own blood.

When there was another curse and Nathan was silent this time, Hermione recognized the voice. Dark clad legs came back into view and stopped just inches from her nose. When the man crouched in front of her and placed a cool hand on her cheek she sighed.

“Don’t hurt him Severus.”

Severus grunted before pulling away his hand, fingers bright with her blood.  Crouching, he slipped an arm under her shoulders and another under her thighs and lifted her from the floor almost effortlessly. Hermione let out a sharp cry at being moved. Her body was jarred and jerked every time Severus took a step, pain lacing up and down her spine and limbs. Her skin was on fire and the wounds burned at the infection making its way into her system. Carefully the potions master set her on the work table she had scrubbed down only hours before. Hermione tried to turn her head, looking for Nathan to make sure he was still alive, still breathing; but the pain was unbearable. When she met Severus’s eyes she could swear she almost saw concern before it was gone and replaced by a form of disgust.

“Look at the mess you’ve gotten yourself into girl. You’re lucky Minerva and I were in her office when Phineas came running. You owe him your life.”

Hermione nodded, throat thick with pain.

“Nathan?”

Severus scoffed, his lips twisted into a snarl.

“That excuse for an animal is fine, nothing he won’t heal from.”

Hermione let out an audible sigh and suddenly found it a struggle to keep her eyes open.

“Sleep girl, I’ll take care of everything.”

For once in her life, Hermione gave in willingly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The typos on Viktor’s sentences are on purpose, trying to give the impression of his accent. Dunno if it worked or not.  
> Kote – Bulgarian for “kitten”

***************HP/SGA******************

_Cross Tower, Tote Forest, Island of Skye, June 2003_

Harry got a disgruntled look on his face when Hermione couldn’t hold her laughter in anymore. Viktor continued on with the story, gesturing wildly with his hands from the couch as he explained the fact Harry couldn’t hold his Bulgarian vodka; in vivid detail. They were settled in the living room, Viktor on the couch, Harry in the armchair from Hermione’s office and Hermione settled on the plush rug in front of the fire, currently laughing on her back.

“An den ‘e tried to stand up but could ‘ot so ‘e crawled back to de bedroom. I took pity on him, helped him to bed and den vowed to ‘ever giff him vodka again.”

Harry stuck his tongue out at Viktor and squeezed his eyes shut before blowing a raspberry.

“Oh sod off Viktor, don’t know what that shit was called but it wasn’t vodka. Paint stripper maybe.”

Hermione laughed harder and sat up before getting to her feet.

“I’ve got to pee, be right back.”

Jogging up the stairs Hermione pushed open her bedroom door and headed to the bathroom, small feet covered in neon orange socks padding quietly over the floor. As she relieved herself Hermione caught her breath, the laughter dying down. Viktor and Harry had shown up early in the morning, forgetting about the time difference. The wards had started screaming when they appeared by floo, locked in the fireplace by the bloodwards she’d installed when she first moved in. Honestly they were lucky the fire wasn’t going, they would have had no way out and their surprise would have been their death.

Hermione had nearly fallen out of bed, stumbled down the stairs, wand at the ready and sagged in relief when she saw it was them. Hermione had been tempted to leave them there for a couple hours, to teach them to call first but they had looked so cramped and pitiful she let them out. Showing the pair to the spare bedroom across from hers Hermione had made several threats if they dared wake her before eight. The disgruntled witch hadn’t been to bed until two that morning and was not in a good mood.

Viktor and Harry hadn’t had a chance to reply before she slammed the bedroom door on them. As they had turned to into their room, her door had cracked open and a quiet, “I missed you boys” was heard before it snapped shut again.

Hermione washed her hands and headed back downstairs, veering off into the kitchen for more cookies and milk. Back in the living room the mood had sobered a bit, Harry and Viktor in quiet conversation. They looked up and smiled almost identically at her when she set the cookies down and settled herself on the couch between them. Biting into a cookie she raised an eyebrow.

“Everything okay?”

Harry nodded and glanced at Viktor. Viktor shrugged slightly and Hermione suddenly had enough. A growl slipped through her teeth before she knew what happened.

“Spit it out.”

Harry looked like he’d been caught with his hand in her potions stock, guilt all over his face.

“Sorry Hermione. Just don’t know how to ask really.”

Hermione cocked her head and looked between the pair.

“Ask what? If I’m okay being furry once a month?”

Viktor flinched almost imperceptibly. One of his rough hands gripped her knee tightly, thumb rubbing back and forth.

“Jes _kote,_ ve are vorried for you. You haff not spoken of this, to anyvone. It is as if it ‘ever happened.”

Hermione looked at him, really looked at his face and suddenly felt bad. She hadn’t spoken about the accident to anyone really, it wasn’t something for polite conversation and she had accepted it as something she couldn’t change. She could count on two hands how many people knew of what happened and two sat with her now. Truth was she may not have come to terms with it but it didn’t bother her, not as much as people thought it should. Now as she conducted her research, she knew exactly how her volunteers had felt. She hadn’t brewed since the accident, had barely looked at her notes. Hermione decided she didn’t know enough and wouldn’t attempt anymore series until she was sure she would get results. Her first series had been aptly named “Before” and stopped with number thirty-nine, all remaining samples locked away.

Gripping Viktor’s hand Hermione squeezed it tightly with both of hers before kissing the back of it.

“I’m fine, really. It’s new and nothing like I thought it was but I’m not going to let it stop me from my goals. My life hasn’t changed overly much, only this time on full moons I brew my own Wolfsbane and lock myself up. I’ve reinforced the cage.”

Pulling them both into an awkward hug she continued on.

“I’ve decided to finish what I started and do my residencies. The ministry smoothed the way for me, filling in the empty time with an illness I was recovering from, cancer that has been eradicated. I need more information and when I think I have it, when I think I can do this, then I’ll brew again. I’ll start again.”

Harry leaned back and brushed a hand down her cheek before dropping a swift kiss on her lips. Hermione laughed and shoved him, falling back into Viktor. Viktor caught her, a deep rumble in his chest vibrating her torso.

“I vill hold her down ‘arry, you finish ‘er off.”

Hermione squealed when Harry tackled her and all three fell off the couch backwards when it tipped. They lay there in a heap on the floor for a while, nobody saying anything, the couch still tipped over and Crookshanks sniffing around the milk. It was warm in the small pile they made, the silence deafening. Hermione lay with her head on Viktor’s chest and Harry wrapped around her back, fingers caressing the back of her neck. Tears began leaking out of her eyes and falling onto Viktor’s dark shirt, invisible to the naked eye. Her body began to shake and her fingers began to twitch uncontrollably. Suddenly if felt like there was a steel band tightening around her chest and Hermione was ready to admit maybe she wasn’t as okay as she wanted to be.

“I don’t know why I’m crying.”

The words were jumbled, her throat tight.

Slowly Harry moved from her back and stood. Reaching down he helped Hermione rise then gave a hand to Viktor. Harry nodded toward the stairs.

“You take her up Vik, I’ll clean up real quick down here.”

Viktor nodded, pulling Hermione close and leading her toward the stairs. The brunette protested, she could clean up; it was her house and they were guests. Viktor just shushed her and continued walking, guiding her up the steps. When they disappeared up the stairs Harry ran a hand through his hair, suddenly filled with a white hot rage. It wasn’t fair this happened to her, wasn’t fair that she had nobody these days and wasn’t fair than she demanded no blame be set on anyone’s shoulders. Harry wanted to blame someone, wanted to blame Nathanial for attacking her, hell volunteering in the first place. He wanted to blame Hermione for not checking the doors, Phineus for not getting help sooner and Snape not getting there faster. Hermione was right though, it was a freak accident and there was nobody to blame.

Tipping the couch back where it belonged he reset the wards from the point at the door and grabbed the leftover cookies, banishing the milk. It was no good, too warm to put back in the icebox. Dropping the cookies back into the kneazle shaped jar Harry set the plate in the sink and left the kitchen. Turning off what lights were on Harry glanced out the window quickly, the midday sun shining bright through the window. He, Viktor and Hermione would take a nap, get up, have dinner and relax.

Going upstairs Harry tried to be quiet as he slipped into the guest room. Hermione was tucked into the middle of the bed and Viktor was coming out of the adjoining bathroom. The Bulgarian was dressed in dark maroon sleep pants, wore thin in some places and frayed at the feet. A large scar ran across his chest, from left to right. His blonde hair was up in spikes and water dripped down his back, evidence of his recent shower. Hermione looked to be half asleep, all that could been seen was a mass of curls buried under the blue duvet. Harry stripped his shirt off as he passed Viktor and reached for his pants. Stripping off his jeans he kicked them to the corner, then he hopped into the shower and scrubbed down.

Green sleep pants and a white tank top waited on the sink when Harry got out. Toweling down he pulled them on before throwing all the piled towels in the laundry basket. Flicking the light off he headed back into the bedroom which was as dark as possible considering it was daylight. Curtains had been drawn and Viktor waited by the window. Walking around the bed Harry stepped up behind the Bulgarian and gripped the other man’s shoulder tightly.

“She’ll be okay. Let’s get some sleep, none of us have been exactly resting easy.”

Viktor nodded but didn’t turn around. Harry let go of his shoulder and turned toward the bed but was stopped short at the warm, calloused hand that gripped his. Turning back toward Viktor Harry’s brows furrowed.

“You alright mate?”

Viktor shook his head.

“No, I am ‘ot.”

Viktor stepped closer and pulled Harry into his chest, trapping the smaller man within his embrace. Harry glanced at the bed quickly, looking to see if Hermione had seen them. Viktor had this odd look in his eyes and his lips were in a tight line.

“I am ‘ot alright with how isolated ‘ermione has become and I am ‘ot alright with you running away from me.”

Harry looked away and grimaced.

“I’m sorry Viktor, this is new to me, really new. I don’t know how Hermione will act or anyone else for that matter.”

Viktor’s grip was still tight on Harry’s hand while his other released his waist and the fingers trailed up his arm and to his neck. Gripping Harry’s neck lightly, Viktor smiled.

“It does ‘ot matter what they will think because there are very few whose opinions vill matter.”

Viktor did not give Harry a chance to reply but pulled the Gryffindor’s head forward, bringing his lips down onto Harry’s. The kiss lasted moments but felt like eternity. Harry gasped for breath when they separated, he couldn’t breathe every time they kissed. It was like all the air had been sucked from his lungs in the most forceful manner imaginable. Viktor leaned his forehead against Harry’s and closed his eyes.

“Do ‘ot deny me this.”

Harry’s shoulders sagged in defeat.

“Do I need to go back to my room?”

The words were sleepy and had them both turning toward the bed. Hermione was sitting up and pushing hair from her eyes. Harry’s body stiffened in Viktor’s arms

“If you two need privacy I can go.”

For the first time in years Harry blushed, his cheeks and neck turning red. Viktor was smirking over his head.

“Ve do ‘ot and you are ‘ot going anywhere.”

Hermione nodded slowly, laying back down.

“Then get back here.”

 Viktor released Harry slowly, watching him as if he would flee. Harry let his fingers lay momentarily in Viktor’s before moving toward the bed. Sliding under the blankets Harry pressed himself to Hermione’s back and met Viktor’s eyes briefly as he slid around her front. Burying his face in Hermione’s neck his voice was quiet.

“I’m sorry I upset you.”

Hermione’s reply was a sleepy one as she shook her head.

“You didn’t. I’m sorry you were afraid I wouldn’t understand. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Harry was silent and lifted his face just enough to meet Viktor’s steady gaze.

“I’m happy.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kote – Bulgarian for “kitten”

_Cross Tower, Tote Forest, Island of Skye, June 2003 (4 days later)_

Alarm bells began screaming in Hermione’s head and for a moment she wondered if Harry and Viktor were playing with the fireplace again. Crawling out of bed she grabbed her wand and with a flick muted the wards, becoming aware it was a perimeter ward and not the fireplace; she was the only one who heard it. A quick _tempus_ showed it was just after midnight, she had been asleep for only an hour. Those wards were set in a complex algorithm, able to detect magical and non-magical creatures but not be set off by the neighborhood bear or squirrel. Needless to say they had cost a pretty penny and Hermione refused to pay for anything but the best.

Hermione tiptoed past the spare bedroom and descended the stairs, sconces lighting up as she went. Everything was quiet and nothing seemed out of place. Exiting the stairwell Hermione stopped in front of the living room window, attention caught by bright lights headed in the direction of her home. It took a few minutes in her sleepy state but suddenly she recognized the lights as headlights, belonging to a pair of large black SUV’s.

Hermione’s home was listed with the local town as a property and even had an address despite how out of the way it was because the property was originally muggle in nature. She had used the address for school and a couple other things, needing a muggle address to provide. Hermione never got any mail, didn’t have a mailbox and even if she did get mail, she had to go into town and get it because they would not deliver out this far. So why were two large muggle vehicles driving over her grass, looking for a nonexistent driveway?

Hermione continued to stare at the vehicle’s approach and decided for once that she would act like a muggle. Walking over to the dark fireplace Hermione pulled the tapestry above it away from the wall and gripped her father’s old twelve gauge Remington shotgun tightly before pulling it off the hooks. She didn’t bother checking to see if it was loaded, already knowing it was. The vehicles were stopped when she got back to the window by the door. Slipping her wand into the pocket on her sweatpants Hermione lifted the locking bar off the door frame and pulled the door wide. Stepping into the doorway she was bathed in the vehicles headlights. Two men got out of the front seats of each vehicle and left them running, one man opening the back doors and letting out two more people she couldn’t see.

Not liking these odds Hermione lifted the shotgun up and leaned the barrel on her shoulder so everyone could see it. The men stopped, realizing the impression being given. One of them stepped forward, hands out to his sides.

“Hermione Granger?”

Hermione stared at the man, making sure not to lose sight of what the others were doing.

“Who’s asking? It’s very late boys and I’m not dressed for visitors.”

Another voice broke the silence, this one she recognized.

“Dr. Granger?”

Hermione tilted her head.

“In name only.”

The speaker came forward into the light, one of the two who had gotten out of the back of the vehicle. His hair hadn’t changed overly much, he was just as pale and that Scottish accent was still just as cute. Hermione couldn’t help but smile a bit.

“Dr. Beckett, what brings you out so far?”

Carson came forward, eyes glancing at the shotgun she still held aloft. He was dressed in dark slacks and a blue sweater, tails of his white button down shirt hanging out. He stopped just short of her and held out a hand.

“Good to see you again.”

Hermione stared at the hand momentarily before taking it, squeezing it lightly. Dropping the shotgun down to her side she ignored everyone else and focused on Carson.

“What are you doing here Dr. Beckett, especially at this hour?”

Carson grinned, shaking his head.

“Just Carson, please. I’m sorry about the hour but my associate didn’t get into town until a couple hours ago. We’ve only got so much time and need to make a couple stops after yours. May we come in?”

Hermione was skeptical, didn’t have a clue why they were there but really didn’t want to stand outside any longer.

“You and your associate can come into my office but the rest of your lot needs to stay out here.”

Carson looked back over his shoulder and waved forward another man dressed in a pressed blue uniform and carrying a cap of some sort under his arm. He was a tall man, tall enough to rival Bill Weasley and had short thick dark hair. His uniform was covered in ribbons and shiny bronze leaves were pinned to the lapels of his jacket, obviously a shined up soldier. Hermione stepped back inside and let Carson pass into the living room followed by the other man. Closing the door she set the shotgun down and turned to the pair. Carson gestured to the other man before introducing him.

“Dr. Granger this is Major Lorne, United States Air Force. We’ve come to you with a proposition.”

Hermione headed down the hall toward her office without a second glance, knowing they would follow.

“Have a seat gentleman. Can I get you anything?”

 Carson shook his head and Major Lorne politely declined. Hermione settled behind her desk in the wingback chair, reaching down to a drawer and pulling out a small decanter of fire whiskey. Grabbing a tumbler she filled it a bit more than was smart before putting the bottle back in its place.

“Well I certainly could use it at this hour.”

Carson looked at Major Lorne as the officer set his hat on the corner of the desk and opened the briefcase he had brought with him. Pulling out a few papers and a pen he closed the case once more and set it on the floor. Shuffling the papers Major Lorne set them on the desk in front of Hermione, ignoring her raised eyebrow. Carson cleared his throat.

“We’d like to offer you a position on a project but before we can provide you any information you have to sign this non-disclosure agreement. “

Hermione took a sip from her glass and stared at the pair over the rim.

“Why do you want to offer me anything?”

Carson looked uncomfortable at his reply.

“Because the day you showed me that anomaly under the ultraviolet light, you opened up a whole new world.”

Hermione made a gesture with her fingers.

“You mean the slide mix-up?”

Carson nodded.

“But I can’t tell you more unless you sign the agreement. It doesn’t mean anything other than you won’t repeat what is said here without severe legal repercussions.”

The witch rolled her eyes.

“I know what it means, it means I’d be sleeping with the fishes. Why would I be interested? Obviously you’ve come to me for a genetic reason and you keep calling me doctor. You have to know I never did any residencies, so I can hardly be considered a _real_ doctor.”

Carson nodded.

“We know, and certain parties are willing to overlook your lack of actual practicing experience. Please Dr. Granger, hear us out.”

Hermione hesitated but reached into her top desk drawer and pulled out a sleek black quill pen. Its metal tip glinted in the low light and the feather was short, looking to be from a raven or a hawk. Reaching out Hermione grabbed the contract and flipped through the few pages, initialing where necessary and finally dating and signing on the dotted line in a brilliant green ink. Blowing on her signature quickly, Hermione opened the desk’s bottom drawer and one at a time placed the papers face down on a scanner she kept there. When done she closed the drawer and set the agreement down within reach of Major Lorne.

Carson raised an eyebrow at the quill and Hermione placed it back in the drawer.

“A graduation present. Now, tell me what this is about.”

****************HP/SGA****************

Hermione sat back in her chair, eyes closed trying to absorb what she had been told. The room was silent and when she cracked an eye open Carson was watching her intently while Major Lorne looked ready to call for men in white coats when she cracked. Standing she walked to the bay window behind her desk and stared out the glass at the vehicles still running on what could be called her front lawn. Truth was, Hermione retreated to this isolated home for her own state of mind. She wasn’t interested in being a war heroine anymore, a prize catch as Witch Weekly described her or even working among the ministry as she had always planned. Sure she and many others had helped Kingsley clean house as much as possible but that was as far as her hand had gone. She had wanted for herself and when Andromeda had reached out to Minerva in a panic after Teddy’s first change Hermione knew what her course would be. Now, Hermione was again faced with another choice, a road far less traveled and a grand opportunity to do more than just broaden her horizons.

Turning back to the two men she let out another breath.

“Atlantis? Like the lost city from children stories?”

Major Lorne nodded.

“Right now without you accepting the position we cannot provide you full disclosure Dr. Granger but suffice to say this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for a once in a lifetime discovery.”

Hermione looked at Carson expectantly.

“What kind of expertise do I have that you could possibly need? There are far more qualified doctors in my field.”

Carson shook his head.

“That may be true but your work has been astounding, your study of genetics near groundbreaking. We could work together, do amazing things.”

Hermione made a tutting noise and gestured with her hands once more.

“Near ground breaking is right, I’ve simply expanded on other’s works. Nothing truly amazing has come out of my work that was just my own. Try again.”

Major Lorne cleared his throat and adjusted his tie.

“Doctor, your file with the British ministry indicates you have a very deep knowledge of several dead and obscure languages.  MI6 has looked in on you several times and we hear they even showed up at your door once or twice. You are more of a valuable mind than you believe.”

Hermione groaned inwardly, she’d been wondering if MI6 would come up. The first time the shadow group showed up at her door they were lost and actually looking for her, she had simply pretended to be someone else, claimed they had the wrong house and they went on their merry way. When they showed back up days later, they’d grinned like school children who had won the game of hide and seek. The Queen had gotten her name from Kingsley when she expressed a need for a translation that was important and like no other. Hermione loved languages and had devoured all work sent her way; magical and mundane alike.

“As much as I want to accept, I cannot.”

Major Lorne nodded and stood, grabbing his hat.

“We appreciate your time Dr. Granger.”

Carson however balked.

“What do you mean? Why not?”

Hermione left the office and headed toward the front door, Carson on her heels and Major Lorne leisurely following as he glanced around her home.

“I can’t Dr. Beckett, I’ve decided to continue with my residencies, my research. One day I want to _be_ groundbreaking, my research to be life changing. Until then, I don’t think I’m really worthy to step into what could very well really be the advanced civilization of Atlantis.”

Gripping the door she pulled it open, turning her face from the headlights that still shone on it. Major Lorne stepped out onto the porch and waited as Carson tried one more time.

“Please Dr. Granger, don’t underestimate yourself. You’ve already done something amazing; you’re a large part of the reason we’re going. That slide you found, it changed everything for us, allowing us to enter into this expedition. “

Hermione shook her head.

“I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I can’t. Maybe in the future, if you still want me, but not now.”

Major Lorne looked at Hermione, his mouth set in a firm line. Carson had obviously said more than he was supposed to.

“There may not be a spot open in the future, when we leave I can’t promise you anything.”

Hermione nodded. Carson stepped outside and turned away but stopped at the voice behind Hermione.

“ _Kote_ , are you vell?”

Hermione looked behind her to see a bedraggled Harry and a shirtless Viktor with his face set into hard lines but his tone soft. Harry held his wand slightly behind him but Viktor held his in plain view. Carson looked shocked while Major Lorne developed a small but lewd smirk on his face. Hermione’s reply was soft, her face serene and giving nothing away to her uninvited guests.

“I’m fine, these gentleman were just leaving.”

With another quiet goodbye, Hermione pushed the door closed and dropped the security bar. Turning to Harry and Viktor she sighed.

“They just offered me a job.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a long time coming, really got into the groove with this one and couldn't find a good place to break it off. Chapters are getting longer but don't expect them to always be this big. Forgive any typos (until I can fix them later) and enjoy!
> 
> P.S. I have a new method to get all my stories written; a chapter a week, only focusing on one story that week. We'll see how it goes.
> 
> P.S.S. My SGA knowledge is a little rusty, bear with me and please forgive any errors in my timeline, I don’t have time to re-watch every episode. I’ve also changed a couple things on purpose to better fit the story.

***************HP/SGA******************

_Stargate Command, Cheyenne Mountain, February 2004_

Light from the stargate bounced off the slate grey walls of the gate room, the siren from the recent activation still ringing. Most of the Atlantis expedition personnel had passed through the gate already and the few that remained were either still there because of fear, awe, or a mix of those two emotions. Not everyone on the expedition had been through the gate before, evidenced by their hesitation or their extreme excitement. Colonel Sumner and his marines had gone first as escort for Dr. Weir, while Lieutenant Ford and Major Sheppard escorted another group through. The last group had been doctors and researchers surrounded by more marines and as the last one stepped though General Jack O’Neill thought he was going to have to sit on Daniel to keep him from diving through the glass and running to the stargate.

Jack wouldn’t admit it but he was waiting on pins and needles to hear Weir’s voice come through the radio. When she did, crisp if not clear, Jack replied in relief and wished them luck before giving the signal to send the champagne through and shutdown the wormhole. Jack turned away from the stargate and raised an eyebrow at the pout on Daniel’s face.

“Cheer up Daniel, you’ll get your chance.”

***************HP/SGA******************

_Atlantis, ATL-984 (Lantea) February 2004 (38 hours after arrival)_

John tore down the hall and out of sight minutes after Atlantis rose from the bottom of the ocean and captivated every other occupant with the beauty of their surroundings. At the moment all of the city was coming to life and he was looking for anything resembling a bathroom that he could hide in for just a minute, until the panic and adrenaline wore off. As he walked by, a door opened and John took the opportunity, diving in and willing the door to close behind him. Dropping his P90 on the nearest surface John ran his hands over his face and gripped his hair tightly.

This was so fucked up, spiraling wildly out of control. They hadn’t been in Atlantis for fourty-eight hours before they realized they were trapped underwater, had to scout locations for evacuation, were then captured, Colonel Sumner and several marines were killed; and John had managed to kill an evil witch while simultaneously following the order to mercy kill his own commanding officer. Didn’t matter if he liked the man or not, it was still a hell of a decision to make. On top of everything, apparently he’d awoken the ENTIRE population of a violent and murderous race that rivaled the Goa’uld.

Sure the city had risen like Aphrodite from the sea, and they were relatively safe but did they honestly know what they had gotten into? Now they were up to their ears in refugees and though they were holding their own, there was a whole new threat on their ass and they had no way to protect themselves. The city was out of power and if they were attacked ten minutes from now they would be virtual sitting ducks.  The worst part was that John found himself as the senior time in grade commanding officer. Letting out a deep breath John snatched his P90 back up before something else crazy happened, like the room ate it. Heading back to the door it opened just before he walked right into it and as he stepped into the hall he realized how alike everything looked. Same wall color, same windows and doors, they all even appeared to be set in nearly the exact same locations. John stood there for a minute trying to decide which end of the hall he had come down, deducing the right since he had made a left. Hearing his name John grimaced, there was no more time to waste. Turning down the hallway John clicked on his mic.

“Headed your way.”

***************HP/SGA******************

_Atlantis, ATL-984 (Lantea) September 2004_

When earth managed to locate another ZPM and reach Atlantis with the Stargate, it was a miracle. At that moment the inhabitants of Atlantis had no idea what they were going to do, faced with the impending attack from the Wraith hiveships headed their way. Evacuation plans were already in motion, the blaring siren of the self-destruct bounding off the walls.  As Colonel Everett and his men stepped through the horizon, carting cases upon cases of weapons, tension jumped in the room. Though they were being promised reinforcements, weapons and an all-around general ass saving, the Daedalus headed their way with the promised ZPM; John didn’t like being pushed aside one bit.

John wished he could say it wasn’t his ego or pride but in some small way it definitely was. He certainly had never wanted to be the ranking military officer on the expedition, he was happy being a pilot; but after the position had fallen into his lap, John had done everything in his power to protect those inhabiting Atlantis. The battle against the Wraith was an eye opener and went downhill fast, no one thought the Daedalus would arrive in time. After barely holding on, even with the Daedalus’s help they only survived by switching their shields to a cloak and blowing themselves up, or so it appeared to the Wraith.

After the dust settled and everyone could breathe again, the pain of losing Lt. Ford seemed worse than any battle.

***************HP/SGA******************

_Cross Tower, Tote Forest, Island of Skye, December 2004  / (1 year, 9 months after infection)_

The pinky on Hermione’s left hand was the only part of her body to twitch as she downed trial AN04. AN04 (After Nathan trial #4) didn’t have as bitter a taste as AN03 and went down a bit smoother, though not by much. Lowering the vial she licked her lips and handed it through the bars into Severus’s waiting hand. The potions master took the vial without a word and dropped it into the empty vials box behind him on the shelf. Hermione tried not to fidget under his scrutiny, finally snapping.

“What is it Severus? Something on my face?”

Severus raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing as dramatic as that Ms. Granger. Simply wondering if this is the recipe that will finally kill you before the full moon does.”

Hermione took a deep breath and raked a hand through her hair. Her nerves were on fire and it took every scrap of control she had to keep her muscles from twitching. Snape was trying to aggravate her, just as he did every moment they were together this last year. Granted his effort was partially to test and enforce her control while the other portion was simply for his own amusement.

Without another word, said antagonizer swept from the room, no doubt to raid her icebox or poke through her ingredients. Hermione still refused to tell him where she was getting such prime samples and ingredients, the local apothecary could not supply his demand or provide even adequate quality supplies since it had been taken over by a new proprietor.

Turning away from the bars Hermione sighed, glancing around the cell she had locked herself in. This last year and a half since her infection had been hard, she’d put all her effort into gaining control of her beast and yet she had been easily deluded into thinking the control was so easily gained; like good grades or the completion of an easy first year potion. Six months after her infection Hermione thought she was ready to start her residencies and did okay until five weeks in when she struggled to treat a four year old girl with a nose bleed. The blood had smelled so good and the skin of the little girl had been flawless, enticing and tender to the touch. It hadn’t helped that the full moon had been only three days away but that moment when her mouth had started salivating she knew she had been wrong, her control was in tatters. Hermione had quickly excused herself as sick and let another tend the little girl. Late that night Hermione had tried to rationalize her reaction, grasping at anything to defend her lack of control. Nathaniel had been a product of the infamous Fenrir Greyback, another child victim, one of many and Hermione had been turned by Nathaniel. It was no doubt that all of Greyback’s victims, whether direct or indirect, most likely inherited some of his violence and sadism; such was the nature of the beast.

In the end however Hermione could not blame anyone but herself and her overconfidence. That night she’d finished off a cheap box of wine and passed out on the couch, drowning in her own embarrassment and shame.

Shaking her head Hermione dragged herself back to the present, suddenly hot and itchy. The moon was rising, almost at its peak and Hermione didn’t need a window to know it. Pulling off her sweatshirt she tossed it in the corner of the cell and stripped off her sweatpants to stand in the cool basement air; she gave up bothering with underwear months ago. Sometimes it got caught up around her legs when it didn’t tear completely, irritating the wolf.  The usual cool draft seemed nowhere to be found and she was burning up from the inside out. Going to the small bathroom she drank heartily from the faucet and grimaced when her head began to ache, just behind her eyes.

There was no guarantee AN04 would work seeing as AN03 was a complete and utter bust. Heading back out into the main area of the cell she ignored Severus as he stood in the doorway to the anteroom, outer robe removed and sleeves rolled up. He watched her with a look of concentration on his face.

“The moon has been at full peak for two minutes and forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty seconds.”

Hermione nodded once, the ache behind her eyes growing. So far it seemed to be the only side effect and if AN04 did work, it was a side effect she could overcome. A sudden pain up her spine however sent Hermione crashing to the floor, unable to rise off her hands and knees. The spasm eased off for a moment before bearing back down and choking a scream from her throat. Before she could stop herself Hermione was vomiting, her stomach twisted into knots and expelling everything she had ingested that evening; including whatever remained of AN04. She gagged, stomach acid burning her throat but that pain was soon over shadowed by the cramps and spams enveloping her muscles. Unable to hold herself any longer she screamed when a bone in her right arm adjusted itself and she collapsed.

Hermione’s head was pounding and her eyes hurt. There was a sharp whine in her ears and she struggled to turn her head. The second she met Severus’s gaze he frowned and she suddenly wanted to cry; she was embarrassed that this many watched the “brightest witch of her age” writhe on the floor in agony as the result of another failure. His voice was soft as it carried to her over sensitive ears.

“AN04 is a failure.”

Hermione’s gums hurt and she could taste blood, most likely having bit her tongue. Before she could control herself a twisted howl fell from her lips and then her mind went blank.

***************HP/SGA******************

_The Twisted Pepper, Dublin Ireland, January 2005 /(1 year, 10 months after infection)_

Tossing back the rest of her whiskey, Hermione turned away from the bar, gaze cutting through the swath of people, looking for no one in specific but hoping someone would stand out. The lights were non-existent tonight, but that didn’t hinder Hermione’s sharp vision. Colored flashes and beams of light danced near the stage, the DJ switching from one EDM song and into another, hyping up the bodies on the floor. The air smelled of smoke, sweat, and sexual attraction; Hermione didn’t like the first, tolerated the second and was actively seeking the third.

In the last eleven months she’d developed a routine, her way of leashing the beast inside her and so far it was working. Hermione watched what she ate, mostly protein and always a little rawer than she previously liked, ran several miles twice a day, grappled at a gym three times a week; and the night before the full moon she prowled clubs in Dublin and Belfast for someone to fuck away her tension. It wasn’t the best arrangement, the Gryffindor wasn’t keen on fucking someone new, especially a stranger, every month; but it worked off her aggression and kept the animal inside satisfied during the most turbulent phase of the moon. She’d tried masturbation, several times a day once, but it had next to no effect, it only made her hand tired and her hunger worse.

Pushing away from the bar, Hermione weaved into the mass of bodies, making eye contact with every unattached male she scented; uninterested in those who had a partner for the night. A sweet and spicy scent drifted into Hermione’s path and she stopped, seeking the source. It took a few turns around the room to find it, scents mingled easily in places like this; a popular, if not grungy hangout for the locals. When she spotted him, it was almost as if a switch was flipped in her head; her body language changed, her smile became flirty and her eyes dark, hungry. The guy was average height, a few inches taller than her, with spiked blonde hair, a few days growth on his sharp jawline, bright blue eyes; tight blue jeans, and a plain black v-neck shirt.

Cutting through the masses was easier this time, her body molding to others, hands straying where they probably shouldn’t as she headed toward her prey. A few feet from him she stopped, body tensing at the new smell, musky and thick. Hermione met the man’s eyes and stepped back, unhappy with what she saw there, feel good hormones fading fast; he was a werewolf like her. Without another thought she turned and headed toward the door, ready to apparate as soon as she hit the alley. This was not in the plan, it was Hermione’s one rule; she wouldn’t sleep with another werewolf, she came here specifically because there were no others. She’d need to hit another hunting ground, one she hadn’t been to recently, spend another hour scoping it out, hope she found someone before closing time; and the itch was starting to burn in her veins like fire.

Hermione ignored the bouncer at the door, waving carelessly as she walked by, trying to think of the best club to hit this close to last call. The cool air outside hit her in the face as she yanked on her leather jacket, thick heeled boots crunching on the pavement. Turning into the alley she closed her eyes, pulling on her magic when a hand gripped her wrist, yanking her out of her concentration. The werewolf looked at her curiously, fingers tight around her wrist.

“I didn’t know there was another here.”

Hermione pulled on her arm but he didn’t let go, and the animal inside her perked up, taking notice of this man; not good. It was hard to describe the feeling, the phantom movement in her chest, almost like something nudged at her breastbone, trying to get out the doggy door.

“I come here every few months, but the place is closing so you won’t have to worry about me.”

The blonde tilted his head, nostrils flaring at her scent. The longer she stood there, the more interested her animal became; Hermione could already smell her own sharp, and tangy scent beginning to rise. Hermione pulled on her wrist once more and stepped back, curling her other hand into a fist, ready to strike. The wolf followed her backward, and Hermione realized her mistake too late, back bumping the brick of the alleyway behind her. His eyes were narrowed, mouth tight and when he leaned in closer Hermione lunged forward in an attempt to throw him off balance, swinging her free hand toward his throat. The blonde grabbed it from the air seconds before sharp nails grabbed for his trachea, pushing her arms to her sides and bringing his chest to hers, dipping his face into her vulnerable throat.

“You smell really good.”

Hermione turned her face away, pushing against his frame with her own.  His voice was gruff, vocal cords attempting to make sounds that his body shouldn’t until moonrise the next night. A tingling started in Hermione’s stomach, warmth spreading at the idea of this man; his scent enticing, his weight pressing in on her, his teeth gliding along her skin. The witch jerked at the realization, her brain fuzzy with hormones; his teeth were on her, lightly pointed and grazing her weak flesh.

“Get off me.”

A rumble echoed in her chest, the wolf disagreeing and almost asking the blonde to come closer. A reply trickled from his throat, teeth gripping her skin lightly. Hermione lifted her leg, intending to stomp on his foot, but a jean clad thigh slipped between hers, material rough against her smooth legs, the motion pushing her little black dress higher up her thighs. Hermione rose on her tiptoes, pushing herself away from the male and into the wall; but he only moved closer, leg finally coming into contact with her barely covered cunt.

“You’re warm too. God you smell so fucking good, just want to sink my teeth into you.”

Hermione shivered, his voice was really sexy and made her want to do some really bad things; fuck his urge to bite her. Her resolve was weakening, he was easily the tastiest item on the menu tonight, but it wasn’t a good idea. When werewolves fucked with other werewolves, this close to the full moon, they were likely to rip each other up; but she’d also heard good things, delicious things.

“Cian.”

Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed, her head turning back toward the male and encountering the blonde hair on the side of his head. Dragging in a deep breath, she practically began salivating, pulse quickening and fire spreading over her limbs.

“What?”

The tongue tracing her jugular left her neck and he raised his head, blue eyes impossibly bright with an alien intelligence. Licking his lips he leaned toward her face, lips hovering over hers.

“My name is Cian.”

Hermione huffed a breath, lips barely parted and tongue peeking between her teeth. Carefully Cian ran his lips across hers, barely touching. Hermione’s eyes slid closed and when he did it again, with a little more pressure, she groaned in frustration and indecision.

“I want you so bad.”

Hermione’s eyes popped open at the desperation, locking with his baby blues. His jaw was tight, muscles bunched, eyes wild, and the musk coming off him was no joke.

“How old are you?”

Cian huffed, breath hot and moist against her lips.

“Legal baby, twenty-two.”

Hermione rolled her eyes just a smidge before clarifying.

“How long ago were you bitten?”

Cian tensed and looked away before answering, reluctance evident in his voice.

“Eight months ago. It’s not getting easier.”

Hermione sighed, tugging on her right wrist a few times until he finally let go. Bringing her hand up to his face she turned his eyes back toward her, the blue still unearthly in the dark, though the fire dimmed in them just a bit. Hermione felt bad for a moment, asking him something so personal, but he opened that line of communication when he confronted her in the first place. Running her fingers through Cian’s hair, the witch gripped his spiked hair, pulling his face back to hers.

“It doesn’t get easier, you get stronger.”

Hermione‘s lips met Cian’s, electricity shooting down her spine. Pulling free her other hand, she brought it up to his chest and pushed him back, shoving him to the other side of the narrow alley, his back hitting the brick forcefully. She pressed her chest to his, stepping between his spread legs. Blue eyes reflected her own desire, and Hermione decided if she was doing this, fuck halfway. Letting her hands drift to the blonde’s shoulders, she kneaded the muscles; teeth nipping at his lips, tongue battling his for purchase, slipping across lightly pointed teeth.

Cian was stunned momentarily at this shift in positions, realizing too late that the brunette had been holding her strength back from him. Hands slid down her supple waist, following the generous curve of her hip and to a taunt ass, barely covered by a little black dress. The flesh was warm, uncovered and filled his hands with ease, more than enough to hold onto and ravage until dawn. Tight jeans restricted his cock, the appendage swollen and begging for attention, pressed tightly against her stomach. Inside, the wolf growled approval, liking this female they had found. Pulling his mouth from the woman’s, Cian gasped for air, eyes drawn to her heaving chest exposed by the clingy dress, skin red with adrenaline.

“Tell me your name.”

The brunette in his arms pouted slightly, hands running down his chest and abs, gripping his waistband; holding him in place as she ground her lower body into his. The tangy scent of her arousal, similar to citrus, wafted from between her legs, spiraling toward him and flooding the air. Biting her lip she looked unsure, and Cian couldn’t help but squeeze her ass in his hands, smacking one half exposed cheek for good measure. A light gasp came from the woman’s mouth.

“I’m breaking my rule for you, I don’t fuck others like me; it’s dangerous. Don’t make me regret it.”

Cian shook his head, dipping his face into the juncture of her neck once more, nipping at her ear lobe.

“I swear the only regret you’ll have, is leaving in the morning.”

Hermione tried not to smile.

“Hermione.”

Cian grinned, mouth taking possession of hers once more. Hermione, it was a pretty name for a fucking gorgeous woman. Gripping Hermione’s ass tightly, Cian lifted her and switch up their positions; placing her back against the brick and his body between her legs. Hermione gasped when the cold touched her soaked cunt, the thong that covered her doing nothing to keep out the sharp wind. Nimble hands still clenched Cian’s waistband, and began pulling at his belt clasp. Cian kept her supported with one hand, his other sliding back up her hip and down her thing, before dipping between their bodies, , fingers tracing the edge of her panties before slipping underneath the material. Hermione let out a noise, tightening her legs and craning her neck to capture his lips.

“Don’t let go.”

The familiar pull of apparition took over as Hermione closed her eyes, concentrating on bypassing Cross Tower’s wards without splinching her guest, landing them in her bedroom. The back of Cian’s knees hit the edge of the mattress and Hermione’s suddenly unsupported weight had him falling backwards into the plush blankets. His eyes fell closed and he groaned at the wet heat that was pressing down on his clothe covered cock. Hermione had his belt open and was pulling it out of the loops on his jeans, hips gyrating in a small circular motion. Pulling her lips from his the Gryffindor smiled, swiping her tongue over his cheek.

“Tell me now if you’re not up for this because I won’t let you leave until I’m satisfied.”

Cian’s eyes snapped open, pupils narrowing. There was a rumble in his chest and his hands slid to her waist. Gripping her tightly he ground his hips upward and smirked when Hermione’s head fell forward, teeth nipping at her jaw.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

***************HP/SGA******************

Cian ran his fingers up Hermione’s spine idly, nose buried in her wild curls. The witch rested her head on his chest, legs entwined with his, right arm thrown over the blonde’s waist, and her hand gripping his exposed hip.

“I was two years behind you, Hufflepuff. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you last night.”

Hermione hummed and stretched, back bowing as she lifted her head and met his blue gaze.

“To be fair, I’m not the witch I used to be.”

Cian chuckled, body vibrating underneath Hermione’s.

“Neither of us are it seems.”

Hermione pulled the duvet under her chin, covering herself and Cian against the early morning chill. The sun had risen a few hours ago but was hidden behind thick clouds and lethargic rain; the pair had been dozing on and off since.

“Who bit you?”

Cian stiffened beneath the brunette and suddenly found her far wall very interesting.

“Did she ask before she bit you?”

Cian refused to look at Hermione but his pulse picked up, the fingers of his left hand clenching in the blankets.

“You’re obviously not a casualty of war, and if she had any sense of honor she would have been by your side, teaching you all this time.”

Cian’s voice was gruff when he replied, thick with the wolf and his scent sharp with shame; it was obvious the great sex afterglow was gone. He began to push Hermione off, raising himself halfway into a sitting position before the witch’s weight pushed him back down. Hermione straddled his waist, long dark hair veiling her face and upper body, erect nipples playing peek-a-boo with the curly strands.

“What makes you think I was bit by a woman? You don’t know anything about me.”

Hermione’s hands gripped his shoulders as she leaned in, her face a mixture of desire and something unreadable, the wolf in her eyes. Her hips ground into his and Cian hissed, bucking up to meet her and loathing himself for it.

“A little over eight months ago she found you at the bar, having a few drinks and looking for a good time. She was pretty, mysterious, and oozed sensuality, maybe even a few years older than you. You saw each other a couple times, and you kept going back just to see more of her.”

Hermione’s eyes were locked to Cian’s, the blonde had grown still once more, paying rapt attention to her story. Slowly her hips ground in a circle over his hard cock; and she raised up just enough for the head to slip inside her damp pussy with every pass.

“When she finally did let you take her home it was close to the full moon, maybe even the night before. She fucked your brains out for hours, riding your cock until it was raw and you couldn’t get it up anymore. She straddled you, licking your chest, nipping you, testing you.”

Cian hissed and screwed his eyes shut when Hermione sank fully onto his cock, raising her body up and digging her nails into his pectorals. Head tossed back she began to ride him; long, slow strokes that made his abdomen burn. His hands gripped her waist, elongated fingernails digging into soft, pale flesh.

“When she came, she let out this snarl and bit you; the burn was excruciating and made you pass out. She was gone when you awoke, nothing left but this bite wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding, a throbbing headache, and aches all over your body.”

Hermione stopped her movement and looked down at him, eyes alight with hunger and need. Cian gripped her hips and forced her down once more, the action eliciting a groan from her throat; the sound raw and almost pained. A dainty pink tongue licked her lips between pants and the blonde had to stop himself was quickly forgetting his anger; she wasn’t completely off the mark and it bothered him.

“What happened next?”

Hermione began moving again, speeding up her rise and fall, chasing the tremors that started wracking her body.

“You looked for her at the club every night for weeks. Nobody remembered her, she vanished without a trace, you thought you were going crazy. When your first change happened, you were scared and confused, but when you woke up the next day all you felt was rage and loss.”

Hermione’s face was mere inches from his and Cian took advantage, pulling her close to his chest and flipping them over, slamming her back into the mattress and driving himself deep within her body. The growls dripping from his lips were inhuman, something he had come to accept about himself months ago; he was no longer human. Every thrust wracked the woman beneath him, her expression the embodiment of ecstasy, the snarls vibrating in her chest spurring him on.

“Finish it.”

Hermione’s hands snaked up Cian’s shoulders, his neck, and into his hair, gripping the strands close and pulling his head to her until his lips rested against the column of her throat. Licking the shell of his ear Hermione smiled, baring her teeth, each thrust driving her closer toward the edge.

“You hide from werewolf society, existing on the edges and trying to learn what you can; going back to that Cerce-damned club just hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman who robbed you of everything that made you Cian the Hufflepuff, instead of this mindless monster. You change alone on full moons, locking yourself away and waking up in such pain you’ve thought about ending it all.”

Cian increased his pace, gunning for the finish line that was so close. He could feel Hermione’s hot body clenching around his cock, her fingernails digging into his scalp, and her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, heels digging into his buttocks.

“I won’t let you.”

Cian jerked, orgasm crashing over him. Hermione followed moments later, a snarl ripping from her already raw throat, mostly blunted teeth clamping down on the muscle in his shoulder.

***************HP/SGA******************

Cian walked out of the bathroom in a pair of well-worn men’s jogging pants. They were obviously too big for Hermione’s thin fame, though he didn’t imagine she got many male guests at her home; an alpha like herself wouldn’t invite just anyone into her territory. He’d passed out after the psychological dissection the witch had given him and woken up alone, but tucked into the large bed with care. Clothes had been left at the foot, with a note to grab a shower when he was ready and they’d grab an early dinner before the sun went down. He could hear two voices below, Hermione’s stern but soft tones and an unknown male, the voice deep and aggressive; Cian could feel the alpha inflection from here.

Pulling a dark blue shirt over his head Cian winced as his skin stretched, healing scratch marks covering his back. Exiting the bedroom he followed the small landing towards the stairs, pausing to sniff at the closed bedroom door on the other side. The scents of two males emanated from that room, mingling with each other until he couldn’t determine where one ended and the other began. Shaking his head he padded down the stairs, surprised by the warmth coming from the smooth stone.

At the doorway to the kitchen Cian froze, partly because Hermione was laughing in the arms of another male, but mostly because the look that male sent him rooted his feet to the spot.  Dark eyes bore into his own, the smile on his lips morphing into a pout before he let Hermione go. Hermione walked over to Cian, leaning in to rub his chest with her cheek. Cian reciprocated, nosing the top of her head and pulling in her scent, eyes never leaving the mother male who was sitting himself back at the island, watching the interaction with dead eyes.

“Cian, this is Nathan. He’s the alpha of the Greater Northern Isle Packs.”

Cian immediately averted his gaze to the floor, realizing he’d been practically issuing the older man a challenge with his stare, frozen in fear or not. Blood rushed to his face as the other man laughed, the sound naturally deep and smooth.

“He’s also my maker.”

Cian’s head snapped to Hermione’s face, searching for any indication of deception. When he found none, confusion followed on the heels of his curiosity.

“I didn’t mean to be so callous with you this morning. I don’t want to see you suffer anymore.”

Hermione’s face was serious as she led Cian by the hand to a stool opposite the Alpha. Plates of barely singed meat were set down accompanied by cold beers, and brownies. Hermione settled herself at the end between the pair and began eating, nudging Cian’s foot with her own when he hesitated.

“Nathan, stop it.”

The other man chuckled, reaching for his silverware.

“Calm down kid, I don’t bite.”

Cian nodded.

The meal passed in silence, and when the fork was settled Cian turned to Hermione, ready to fire questions off.

“What happened?”

Hermione glanced at Nathan before turning back to Cian.

“A friend of mine has a godson whose father was a werewolf. Though he was never infected, the boy goes through the change the same as we do. There’s never been record a child inheriting the complete change, most get traits or behaviors unless something happens at birth. The boy however is a rare metamorphmagus, and I believe this is what allows him to affect the full change.”

Cian nodded, almost dumbfounded.

“I’ve always had a soft spot for werewolves, and the fact this boy at a year old was going through such a painful change only spurred me on. I began researching the current Wolfsbane method, looking for a potion that could delay the change or stop it from happening. There is no cure for the disease, it’s a magical strain that evolves on a daily basis, only time could kill it; but if I could develop something to better manage it-”

Nathan’s voice interjected.

“You’ve done more than anyone has tried in decades Hermione.”

Hermione shook her head.

“Regardless, I needed test subjects. After rounding up volunteers and experiencing failure after failure, they lost hope and wanted nothing else to do with my trials. Nathan was the only one holding out, waiting on me to pull through. Needless to say, the potion didn’t work, the reinforcements on the cage had gotten weak, and I made a mistake.”

Nathan’s hand slipped under the table, gripping Hermione’s knee in a gesture meant to comfort, but it only made her shrink away. Ever since the infection Nathan had been trying to alleviate her guilt by taking the blame solely onto his shoulders, but Hermione knew better. She’s become complacent and now had a lifelong reminder.

“Cian, the new rules allow us to live with a sense of community and safety werewolves haven’t had in centuries. What was done to you is unforgiveable, and the woman will be dealt with appropriately. We can teach you how to manage the wolf, live to the fullest, and accept your life as it is now; you don’t have to do this alone.”

Cian shook his head.

“I’ll never be human again.”

Nathan slid a hand across the table, fingers wide and palm up.

“I’ve lived with this curse since I was eight years old, one of dozens of child victims bitten by Fenrir Greyback. The one thing I’ve learned and embraced is that yes, we are no longer human. Instead, we are more than human. We have all the emotions, convictions, and opinions of our human selves; but also possess the animal instinct, mentality, and unfettered desires of what lays within us. This may be a curse, but we don’t have to live like it is.”

Cian stared at the outstretched hand, almost afraid to take it and wake up from a dream.

“Run with us tonight, and we’ll show you the heaven you’ve been missing."


End file.
